|
|
||||
| Blog | Photos | Movies | Stuff | Mail Us |
Home
|
Bouncing BackIt had been four and a half months since I'd nearly PR'd at the Virginia Mason Team Medicine Half. I have been struggling with a back injury since then. I had registered for the Chicago Marathon, even purchasing my plane tickets before having to bow out. Injuries are lousy. Back injuries are really lousy - it's hard to do anything without pain. I didn't do my first 18+ mile run until October 1st. The person who got me back on me feet was my friend Katie Wang. She graciously agreed to apply her Physical Therapy skills on me in her family room, while our kids played together. The difference afterwards was day and night. I went from struggling to walk, to being able to hike up and down hills. A week later, I was able to run 13 miles. You can read about the saga and the beginning of the comeback in my August calendar. Somewhere in there, I began to think about doing the Seattle Marathon. My first seven marathons had all been in different states - and that was going to be difficult to sustain - as the closest 'new' state was now Montana. Kris had committed to doing Seattle to raise money for Girls on the Run. She was coming off of a serious shoulder injury, and her training ramp was unbelievably steep. As she got closer to her goal, I was drawn in too. I'd joked about needing to keep up with my wife, but the truth is that it's just foolish to walk away from inspiration. So as she got closer, so did I (albeit a week behind her). Training RampIn mid-October, I finally sat down to figure out how doing this race might be possible. My requirement was that I went up to about 23 miles in training, and that I had 2 weeks between each 20+ mile run. Well - as that didn't work (not enough time), I modified them slightly. I ended up getting up to 23 miles, but ran successive weeks of 18, 19, 20, and 23 miles in order to do so. There was only room for a 2 week taper prior to the race. This was a lot steeper than anything I'd tried before. My long runs were kind of mixed. I definitely didn't feel as strong or well-prepared as I had for previous marathons. My tempo work was incidental, and there was no speed work at all. On the other hand, I felt that prior to my injury, I was running well enough to PR in both the half and full. I just needed to hold on to that confidence. I did most of the long runs with others from the Eastside Runners. I tended to run with people who I knew were faster marathoners than I, which helped. And running so many miles, so quickly was a confidence boost. As my PT regime wound down, I started doing Hatha Yoga. I felt like a real klutz, but the strengthening and flexibility work was great - I ended up supplementing my classes by reading some books, and doing some routines on my own. This made me more comfortable and confident with the material. The week before the race my back had started to nag at me again. I attributed this to some of the more challenging yoga routines I'd been doing. By Friday, I was loading up with anti-inflammatories and sleeping on heating pads. I waited to register until the last minute. When I paid my $115 (!) for the race, I knew I'd do it if it killed me. That's a lot of money. I had developed a simple race strategy. I'd target 9 minute splits across the board. I would run conservatively until clearing the hills at the end. I'd drink water at every stop, supplementing with the single 20 oz. bottle I was carrying (drinking several gulps at least every two miles). I would consume an endurolyte tablet roughly every three miles, and a gel pack every 6-7 miles. I think of the course in six parts :
The difference between a good day and a bad one would be staying within myself, unlike my experience in Coeur d'Alene. Once into the hills in part 5, I could do what I wanted.
With gear, the night before the race. Race DayWe woke up at 5:30 to the sound of pouring rain outside. We didn't know it, but the rain was washing away some snow that had fallen in the middle of the night. Rain would make the miles longer, but wouldn't be too much of an issue unless it poured. In some respects, we were due, as the last two or three years we'd had great weather on the day of the Seattle Marathon. We ate a little, dressed, then went to go pick up our friend Catrena. She and Kris would run together, both wearing their Girls on the Run shirts, having raised over $2000 for this great cause. We headed out over the bridge, and then sat in traffic for 30 minutes going from I-5 out to Seattle Center. At one point, I had to dash out of the car while we were idling on the freeway, in order to find some bushes. Kris and Catrena drove past me and cheered. They snapped a picture too. I'll get even someday.
We ended up arriving in plenty of time, and found that the lines for the porta-potties are a lot shorter when then 5000 or so half-marathoners left. By now, the sun was up, and it looked like we were going to have a really nice day. I wished Kris and Catrena luck, then did some last-minute stretching, and lined up. The RaceYou can follow along using the course map. It may help you to identify the landmarks I describe. As we started out, I remember hoping that my back wouldn't be too much of an issue. It still hurt, and pretty significantly too. I tried to contract my core when I remembered, and noted that my right hip flexor, and piriformis were working a lot harder than their left-side counterparts. The crowd was a lot thinner than it is for the half (which I'd done five times previously). Heading down 5th Ave, I saw a barefoot runner loping along. I glanced up, but somehow missed the monorail wreckage (there was a collision the previous night). Passing by the first mile marker, I noted my speed (too fast), and throttled back a bit. Going uphill along fifth through downtown, I felt pretty good. The first two miles were a bit too fast, so I throttled back accordingly. The stretch across the city on the freeway was a blur - I was just trying to get into a rhythm without going too hard. Heading onto the bridge, there was a mild headwind. I didn't spend time talking to anyone else, just focusing on running my own race. I noticed that I wasn't zoning out, as I ordinarily do on a long run. On the other hand, I wasn't feeling impatient either. Running on the bridge wasn't my favorite part. It's just kind of long, with a couple of climbs as you approach the Mercer Island turnaround, and then again heading back into Seattle. I'd worried that the walkers would kind of gum things up, but they did a great job of keeping over to the right side. Between the 5 and 6 mile mark, the lead runners ran past us. There were two in front, with people dribbling in slowly behind them. As I approached the turnaround, I saw my friends May and Nathanial, right around the 8 min pacer. They were both having good days. I ate my first gel pack just after the turnaround, about a mile later than planned. As I was drinking Gatorade at the aid stations, I figured I was getting enough electrolytes, so I wasn't worried. Heading back west to Seattle, I began looking for Kris and Catrena coming the other way. I saw them between mile 7 and 8, about 2 miles behind me - both were smiling and looking great. I felt kind of heads-down, almost as if I wanted to go to sleep and wake up for the last 10k. When your race strategy is simple like mine, this is not a bad way to think about things. I kept my eye on my splits, and adjusted to keep between 8:45 and 9 min/mile. Turning south on Lake Washington Blvd. I was surprised at how long it took to get to Seward Park. This was the quietest part of the route. There were no runners opposite us for a while, and the crowds were very sparse. For about three miles, it was just "one foot in front of the other". There was also a bit of wind coming up from the south. I felt the wind die down as we turned north again, in Seward Park. This was a really attractive part of the course too. It's narrow, but we seemed to fit well enough. Coming north again, I kept my eyes on the bridge. I swallowed another gel pack, around mile 14. I was "on plan" with the endurolytes, but not paying so much attention to water. Between the sport drinks and water I was taking in at the aid stations, I felt pretty good. It began to feel warm coming up Lake Washington Blvd. - surprisingly so. I was happy that I'd decided on short sleeves. My gloves were too thick - if they were so nice, I probably would have chucked them on the course. Entering the fourth part of the course (just past mile 17), I was still feeling pretty good. I fought off the urge to run faster - there were still 8 miles to go. I remember being aware that I didn't have a lot of kick in me (because of my hip), but that I did have something left. By now, we were running into the sun a bit. I was conscious of raising my shoulders to "open my heart" in Hatha Yoga terms. It sounds a bit silly, but this seemed to make a difference to me at the time. It reminded me to enjoy myself. I was also consciously slowing my breathing - keeping the inhale and exhale relaxed and symmetric. In these quiet but significant ways, my brief yoga training made a difference to me. By now, we'd started the fourth segment of the course. Quite a few people had started to walk. Others were off to the side stretching, and in some pain. That's the thing about this distance. You can do everything right leading up to the race, but still have a bad day (as we did when Kris and I did Grandma's in 2003). As the road began to climb leading up to Galer, I kept my breathing steady and chest out, and kept moving. Now and then I would remember to contract my core, but I was no longer trying so hard to push off with my hips and gluts. I was feeling tired, but still reasonably strong. We turned to go up the hill, and I slowed waaaay down. I could feel my calves and quads hurting, and was very careful not to push them to the point of cramping. I thought about walking up, but it didn't feel necessary to stop running. The Galer hill isn't more than a quarter mile, but it goes right into a steady climb up Madison. This was the first time all day that I'd felt aerobically taxed. I did my slowest mile here, from 20-21, and was really happy to make the turn into the Arboretum. I ate my third gel pack between mile 21 and 22, and decided to forgo any more endurolytes (I'd been somewhat spotty with them anyway, and drink only water from here). I felt the beginnings of some side stitches, and wanted to try to stave them off. We sailed down the hill and then began climbing another. I'd decided against trying to push through here at all. I may have been able to squeeze another couple of minutes out, but it would have been the difference between feeling good, and feeling lousy later in the day. I was chatting with a guy who'd pulled out his cell to call his wife in MN as we climbed up to mile 22. The ESR crowd was manning the aid station at the top of the hill. I was in a good mood, knowing that I'd done most of the climbing, knowing that I was heading into the prettiest part of the course (through the woods along Interlaken), and then saw my friends. Al Schuele remarked that I must not have run hard enough as I seemed too happy - I got some high fives, and pressed on. Now here is where my memory had failed me. I'd imagined myself kicking about here. However, I'd forgotten that there were some undulating hills to contend with. Instead, I kept as steady a pace as I could, mindful that 3:50 was within reach, even if a PR (3:47) probably wasn't. I'd also forgotten how long the run from the base of Interlaken to Boylston was. As we ran to mile 24, I was ready to wind things up, but not really able to kick into high gear. I could coast down the hills well enough, but didn't have enough left to power up the hills. Instead I had to stay patient, and go at a steady pace. As we passed mile 25, the course turned onto Republican and headed downhill, I could see the straight line back to Seattle Center. There's a small climb heading back, but most of the time, I was thinking about finishing strong. A cruel twist is the last climb up Mercer, heading into Memorial Stadium. I sort of plodded up, chuckling at the people who were encouragingly yelling "you look strong!". By now I was definitely ready to be done, and calculating how long to delay the final kick so as not to run out of gas. I ran past mile 26, and then the 13 mile mark for the half before picking up the pace a little to try to look strong and happy for the pictures. I took off my hat as I ran to the finish, and ran through just as the official clock ticked past 3:50 ... clicking my watch told me that my chip time would be about 15 seconds under 3:50 though. Kris and Catrena came in a bit later, looking strong all the way.
Kris and Catrena's Race I'd seen them on the course once early on, as they were heading east towards Mercer Island. Both were smiling and waving. They looked strong and happy coming in to the finish too. In a number of ways, I think their accomplishment was far more significant than mine. First - this was Catrena's first marathon. And - she braved an IT band injury late in her training, and toughed it out to finish. Kris also worked very hard to get to the starting line. Just three months before, she'd had a serious bike accident that left her with a broken collarbone and separated AC joint. She cross-trained like a woman possessed to preserve and then build the aerobic base necessary for her to do the marathon. Finally, the two of them raised a bunch of money for Girls on the Run - a program that our eldest daughter loved participating in.
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
